Legacy

 

If it were simple, it wouldn’t be worth doing.

If it were simple, it would be done in a heartbeat and then it would be over.

Tides seem monstrous in the dark. The swell a mutiny and a violation. And at dawn, the same tides settle and caress the sand, contrasting the violence and the din at night.

And when the sun sets again in the still of the following day, the storms are forgotten and there is a new day that enters the stage.

Whatever you desire is on the table.

You can settle for the buy in or you can take a chance.

It doesn’t matter, for the cards will fall as they will,

No matter how much you have invested.

When you remember, the time line is clear,

The chronology evident.

But when you’re blind and fumbling for the ends of the fabric that will create your quilt,

You can’t see the end product, and no amount of sketching will let you see what you will truly produce.

For destiny doesn’t exist.

Coincidence is certainty,

And the ordained is forgotten.

Or at least that’s what the years try to teach us.

Whimsical horses on a carousel lead you to a mortgage

And responsibility imprisons us.

This is the way it’s supposed to be.

This is what creates achievement and what is expected.

To be lost in your dreams and remain in your imagination is not what builds skyscrapers and superannuation.

That is not honorable or the right thing.

For to graduate at the gates of silver you must eventually fall into the mould you were given..

But

What if I can’t justify the pain of restriction?

What if I can’t wear that waist trainer for my dreams?

I could be all pretty, and still dead.

I could have all the houses and still be ash.

And the legacy I planted could be gold….

Or I can strive and balk and scream to be allowed to be free.

I can refuse to believe them.

I can close my eyes and see the patterns that bely the certainty of an investment.

Stand out for centuries as a ghost that maws at the dark.

A ghost that clutches at your chains and yanks at them from oblivion. A ghost that haunts itself in boxes and photographs that hang like leaves. And the deciduous years discard them in the end.

You are a clip you post that is too long. Trimmed to fit, you publish the valued part. The rest is the edge of forever, the irrelevant edges that padded your magna opus.

 

 

 

Lucy

 

Living teaches you so much, and I think one of the things I am not happy to learn is the amount of loss that you get to experience in a lifetime. Some would say I’m only half way through my life journey, although I kinda hope I’m two thirds through, to be honest.

I can’t believe how many famous people have died. When I was younger, I thought life would stay the same. You really don’t think about how much everything changes and how many curve balls life throws at you.

I used to think that if you wished for things hard enough and worked for them, you’d get them. And now I know it’s not as simple as that. Maybe just in the stories I write.

Every loss reminds you of the previous one, and the one before that, and the pain is amplified each time. And then there is the anticipation of loss, and the anticipatory guilt that I will die before my kids.

Death doesn’t scare me, grief does.

Lucy is 20 this year, and I’m so scared to lose her. I value her company so much. I always joke that she is my longest relationship, and apart from my kids that is the truth. She is tucked under the quilt against my belly right now. And every now and again she purrs.

She was there when my kids went to high school, and when I had a secret affair with some bloke, and when I did online dating, and when we had Scruffy, and Blossom, and Princess Jess, the rats, when I had a couple of boyfriends…. She was there when I sold the house and when we moved here. She was there when the kids finished high school, when they went to stay with Andy half time. When I spent Christmas day alone. She was there when I cried and when I laughed. She was there when Tora was a kitten, and she brought in Baby, our blue tongue lizard. She was there when Malachi was alive, and she let him share her space. She was there through all of that, and as the years have passed, she’s grown more tolerant. She’s gone from being quite feisty when a new pet arrived to almost sighing in understanding of her dumb human. I can almost see her roll her eyes at me. She’s a bit like me I suppose, becoming more tolerant and resigned to whatever life throws at us, accommodating, strapping herself in for the journey. And this brave soul is enduring sore joints and worsening renal failure, she only has one and eye and no teeth. And she is still here, and she loudly demands I sit down or go back to bed when I get up in the morning. She follows me down the corridor when I say it’s time for bed, and grumbles at me if I say no. She ignores me when I come back from being away and pretends she’s deaf if she’s behind the blind in the sun when I call her. Unless I use my “I need you” miaow, which she taught me.

Maybe I am a crazy cat lady, and maybe people will judge me by saying I will have a lonely old age without a man. Meh, whatever. I will have one of those if I can find one. But Lucy has been here when others weren’t. When my friends were busy, or when I needed time to cry. She has been here when I needed a friend, a companion. She’s still here. And the thought of losing her hurts me so much. Since Ted passed, I’ve had to think about that possibility. I know her time draws nearer and I really don’t want her to go.

I wish life didn’t pass so fast. I wish a lot of things that I can’t have and probably never will have. And accepting that I won’t is the hardest thing of all.

For example, I will never have the experience of bringing up kids with a partner. I will never have the experience of being married for 50 years.

 I may never have a partner who supports me through the hardest times. But I will have a  19 year old cat who has been my best friend for almost that long. Who has been there for the hard and the good times. Hopefully another few years. Hang in there, Lucy.

There are a lot of regrets now that I am older. Maybe not regrets. Given the information I had at the time, those decisions were the right ones. Maybe more  wishes. I wish trauma hadn’t had such a large influence on my decisions and the way I relate to people and the partners I have chosen for myself. I wish anxiety hadn’t driven me while the kids were little.

I wish I’d know I had adhd and had forgiven myself more often. I wish I’d been kinder to myself along each step of the way.

And while I know my life is not yet over, my hair is grey now. The lush long locks that I used to have and didn’t value then are gone. I wish I had valued what I had when I had it.

So…. I’m valuing what I have. I know I have been more grateful along the way than most. I have always enjoyed each stage of my kids’ lives. I’ve always tried to not have any regrets.

I hope that I will still have unexpected surprises in my future. I hope that I am proven wrong about certain stereotypes in people. I would love that.

I hope people realise that loving animals is no different from loving people. The depth is the same. The companionship is similar. Yes, they don’t converse, they don’t really understand the complexities of problems. But, they know when you’re hurting. It is no coincidence that at the hardest times, they forget their differences and they always spend that night all together on my bed. Dusty always licks my face when I cry. And the pain of loss is not diminished simply because they are animals. And no, they are not just a cat or a dog. That’s what people who have never lived with a cat or a dog say.

I wonder what Lucy would say if she could speak. I can imagine it. I think she’d say that she is happy, that you don’t need much to be happy…. A warm spot in the sun or a warm lap to sleep on. Kindness and bottomless understanding when you’re annoying. Someone to love you and tolerate you as much as you do them. Someone who cares where you are when you get home, someone who forgives you when you’re annoying or annoyed. Someone who notices when you’re sad, and quietly accepts it, and just sits quietly through that sadness.

Someone who accommodates your needs when they plan to travel, and cancel plans because you might not cope with them being away. Someone to rely on, someone you love so much, the thought of losing them makes you hurt like a bitch.

I have someone like that. And unfortunately for me, her life is shorter than mine. She's my girl.